Lt. Commander Doz Finch - The Shepherd's Strategy
Doz Finch
((The Gateway Room, Gibaria Outpost))
A great degree of responsibility came with leading an away team. It was quite the tricky balancing act of shepherding and strategy; the safety of the team with her, of the scientists, of the outpost, always remained the highest of priorities. It was safety operating procedures 101, and it was rather non-negotiable.
As unusual it sounded, the actual objective came second, but its success was still utterly paramount. Without a clear pathway through to the gate and the unfathomable dimension beyond it, the overall mission couldn’t be completed. Blending the two priorities together, staying composed and accepting that any decision she made was either going to fly wonderfully or fall miserably, now there was the rub.
The Chief Engineer was no stranger to leading, lord knows she’d been doing it in some capacity for most of her dusty old life. But there in Gibaria Outpost, it just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t as black and white. She couldn’t say with absolute certainty that the path they had forged so far perfect and without its risks, and it felt like chalk to her chest admitting that.
Yet, if there was one thing one thing that a lifetime of maintenance engineering had taught her, it was that almost anything could work again with the right parts. A positive mindset and a can-do attitude, that's what she needed. So what could they do next? They could build a map and dispatch it to the other teams. Take this direction, be mindful of the dangling vines, and avoid the harmless hybrids. And that was if they didn’t find an alternative.
Finch: There’s a gallery up there.
Neathler: No way to tell what or who’s out there though.
Espinoza: I can’t imagine it’s much more dangerous than bein’ out here in the open. Anythin’ could come through that gateway at any time. I’d feel safer in the box.
Finch: It’s where the scientists would probably watch the gate with their own eyes.
Neathler: Maybe there’s more logs up there that could give us a clue on what to find behind the gate or how it operates?
Espinoza: Let’s hope. This has been terrible enough. I’m startin’ to think I’d rather know how much worse it’s gonna get than not.
The viewing box overlooked the pointed arch ahead of it, an astonishing construction best known as the Gate. The box itself was a perfect vantage point for scientists to observe any initialisation or contact events, whilst those in higher power streamed everything from the comfort of a distant control room. It was a classic configuration, and she could bet her bottom latinum that the view from up there was just as chilling as the view from lower down.
Neathler: It seems we’ll have to find the entrance to the lift behind the vines somehow.
Espinoza: I’ll check this side.
Neathler: Or if you find an escape ladder that might be better. Vylaa is warning us for a possible power surge from anything that is connected to the grid.
Espinoza: What exactly does that mean? The gate, at least, shoulda have been designed to withstand surges, right?
Bushy caterpillar brows lifted above their sockets as the older woman considered his question, then twitched a bit uncertain as to the answer.
Finch: There are too many unknowns surrounding the gate and what’s really powering it for the moment. Consoles, lighting systems, ::she gestured,:: lifts. That’s what’ll spark first.
Beneath the gallery, Samira approached a panel, one besmirched by more of the dark vines and flowering mulberry spikes. One of them puffed a cloud of spores, and the tactical expert found herself in a coughing and sneezing fit. Perhaps it wasn’t too toxic, as the woman hadn’t keeled over from it.
Neathler: Careful…
Espinoza: Bless you, Commander.
Doz whipped out a used hanky and handed it over, resisting the urge to wipe the woman’s nose for her.
Finch: Here you are, love.
Satisfied that Samira was sorted out, the older woman soon tried to get a look at the smothered panel when the ensign among them paused, eyeing her and Samira with a question mark floating above his head.
Espinoza: What did you say?
Finch: I didn’t say anything, Ensign. Although I might have been rambling away to myself about the panel, it has been known to happen on occasion.
She chuckled and shook her head.
Neathler: Response
Ethan’s brows furrowed and his lips pursed at that, before he returned to his flashlight sweeping. Through the dazzle of the light, a yellow outline and a scrawl of text plastered across a covered bulkhead appeared. Brown eyes squinting, she turned to get a proper look, mouth pressed together with focus.
Espinoza: I think there’s a maintenance hatch behind this, Commanders.
Finch: Marvellous! Excellent find! It might be just what we need. Reckon it's accessible?
Neathler: Response
To the left side and rather compact, the hatch hadn’t been designed with people like Vylaa in mind, but then they seldom were. They tended to favour the squirrel community, most of the time, people like herself and Gnaxac.
Ethan used the rear end of his weapon to nudge one of the vines away, and with their usual quiver, they complied as they had done so far. It was strange, in a way, that something so powerful and deadly that had demonstrated both that and its intelligence multiple times through a variety of marionettes, was still willing to, well, cooperate.
Perhaps that wasn’t the right word to use, but she wasn’t sure how to describe it yet — they needed a scientist. Or a strong cup of tea, at least, the universe's greatest problem solver.
Espinoza: I think if we’re real careful, we might just be able to - ::with his inflection remaining the same:: the voice is not a voice but a turning. The thought arrives unfinished, unfinished, unfinished. We speak in the shape of your breath. Could I have a hand, Commanders?
The away team leader blinked a few times, her head tilted like a quizzical Pomeranian.
Finch: What did he say, Commander?
Neathler: Response
Finch: I thought he did. ::She gently held the ensign's elbow and pulled him to face them both.:: Mister Espinoza, are you quite alright to continue?
Neathler / Espinoza: Response
She pulled out her tricorder, torch clipped to her belt, and moved her device over the lads frame.
Finch: It’s difficult to get any sort of precise reading due to our proximity to the gate. If you’re absolutely certain that you don’t feel any different, we’ll make way. I can blame rambling on my age, but this is a tad different.
Neathler / Espinoza: Response
A crackling sound echoed through the chamber, followed by a few amplified pops and thumps. Her shoulders flattening and her back straight, she turned around in search of the source. Beyond the latticework of carmine tendrils and spiked blossoms, a voice called out, tinny in tone thanks to whatever speaker was responsible.
Voice in the speaker: Hello? Are…are you here to help us? I’m…I’m in the gallery. Uh...up above.
Neathler / Espinoza: Response